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Target, True, and Tumblr: Fic Writers Alignment Chart @anony-mouse-writer Lawful Good Neutral Good Chaotic Good long series of non-chronological fics with loose ties to one writes long fic in full before posting on a regular schedule unti another. well written and just posts short, one-shot stories at random forever- no matter how much the people beg for more finished with a largely consistent posting schedule Lawful Neutral True Neutral Chaotic Neutral has seque(s) planned out comes from obscurity to for a series and is still writing, but takes approximately 5 years to finish it before posting write a single, mind-blowing fic, then fades back into nothin forever swans from the void to post updates erratically but never leaves any real cliffhangers Lawful Evil Neutral Evil Chaotic Evil has 17 different long-fics begins long angst-fic with inconsistent update schedule before abandoning the fic for good after posting a clifthanger begun and unfinished, some has a compilation post of fics I will never write' to tease everyone. Every ast one is an amazing idea several years old. will occassionally break from their current work to post a single chapter for one at random leaving a worse cliffhanger than before. Pure, Unadulturated Evil has several chapters after their latest cliffhanger full of author notes and side tangets before abandoning the story forever and marking it complete without tagging it as an abandoned work anony-mouse-writer: [fic alignment]
Target, True, and Tumblr: Fic Writers Alignment Chart
 @anony-mouse-writer
 Lawful Good
 Neutral Good
 Chaotic Good
 long series of
 non-chronological fics
 with loose ties to one
 writes long fic in full
 before posting on a
 regular schedule unti another. well written and
 just posts short, one-shot
 stories at random
 forever- no matter how
 much the people beg for
 more
 finished
 with a largely consistent
 posting schedule
 Lawful Neutral
 True Neutral
 Chaotic Neutral
 has seque(s) planned out comes from obscurity to
 for a series and is still
 writing, but takes
 approximately 5 years to
 finish it before posting
 write a single,
 mind-blowing fic, then
 fades back into nothin
 forever
 swans from the void to
 post updates erratically
 but never leaves any real
 cliffhangers
 Lawful Evil
 Neutral Evil
 Chaotic Evil
 has 17 different long-fics
 begins long angst-fic with
 inconsistent update
 schedule before
 abandoning the fic for
 good after posting a
 clifthanger
 begun and unfinished, some
 has a compilation post of
 fics I will never write' to
 tease everyone. Every
 ast one is an amazing
 idea
 several years old. will
 occassionally break from
 their current work to post a
 single chapter for one at
 random leaving a worse
 cliffhanger than before.
 Pure, Unadulturated Evil
 has several chapters after their latest cliffhanger full of author notes and side
 tangets before abandoning the story forever and marking it complete without
 tagging it as an abandoned work
anony-mouse-writer:
[fic alignment]

anony-mouse-writer: [fic alignment]

Apparently, Crime, and Dating: writing-prompt-s A dating service where matching is based people's search history exists. You're a serial killer. You go on a date with a writer. endreams-s Serial Killer: metaphorically, if you were to kill someone, how would you do it? Writer: Air shot between the toes, it'll look like a heart attack. Serial Killer who is obviously in love already: *sucks in a breath* ok fangoddess817 Writer: how long would it take to die if you were to potentially stab someone in the guts Serial killer: anywhere from 2 to 30 minutes Writer, already bringing a ring out: *shaking* thanks December C) Baby infinityonthot A++ addition tetsuskitten Writer: *shows the serial killer the murder scene they're writing* babe, i'm not sure if this would actually work? Serial killer: *kisses writer on the forehead and leaves, comes back later, a suspicious scent of blood coming off them* it works baby, you're doing great tigerliliesandcherryblossoms I LOVE THIS vmohlere Oh no, murder comedy is my jam laziestofthedreamers I love this, I love all of this, but quick question, does the author know? Like are they aware that their significant other is a serial killer or do they just think that they have a morbid sense of humor? It'd be even funnier if the author had no fucking clue, like how Aurthur Conan Doyle was apparently stupidly gullible, and on top of it they're a horror or crime novelist. Like the serial killer works at a butcher shop or something so it's completely normal for them to come home smelling like blood, no murders going on here, no sirey. Just my darling coming back home from a long day at work. Now fast forward a bit and the author has managed to get their first book published, with loving support from the serial killer who helped them fine tune all the murder scenes, and it's a big hit. Enough so that detective with the local police department has noticed some disturbing similarities to several active cases, including details that were never released to the press. Obviously he brings this up to his superior and convinces him that there's something to the theory, but it's all circumstantial right now. He stakes out the author's home and is super convinced that the author is the murderer, but they don't seem to do anything??? Like they literally are at the house all day, that's it. Most they do is leave for groceries. So you get this dynamic of the serial killer mining the author for creative murder schemes, the author being lovingly encouraged by the serial killer, and finally the detective who is just so sure that the author is the killer and that if he sticks it out long enough he'll FINALLY have proof. annieutimagines Plot twist, The serial killer and detective use to go out so it gets sub what personal. "You need to stop seeing them. I think they are a serial killer." Serial killer breaths in. "Look-" I love this so much
Apparently, Crime, and Dating: writing-prompt-s
 A dating service where matching is based
 people's search history exists. You're a serial killer.
 You go on a date with a writer.
 endreams-s
 Serial Killer: metaphorically, if you were to kill
 someone, how would you do it?
 Writer: Air shot between the toes, it'll look like a
 heart attack.
 Serial Killer who is obviously in love already: *sucks
 in a breath* ok
 fangoddess817
 Writer: how long would it take to die if you were to
 potentially stab someone in the guts
 Serial killer: anywhere from 2 to 30 minutes
 Writer, already bringing a ring out: *shaking* thanks
 December C) Baby
 infinityonthot
 A++ addition
 tetsuskitten
 Writer: *shows the serial killer the murder scene
 they're writing* babe, i'm not sure if this would
 actually work?
 Serial killer: *kisses writer on the forehead and
 leaves, comes back later, a suspicious scent of blood
 coming off them* it works baby, you're doing great
 tigerliliesandcherryblossoms
 I LOVE THIS
 vmohlere
 Oh no, murder comedy is my jam
 laziestofthedreamers
 I love this, I love all of this, but quick question, does
 the author know? Like are they aware that their
 significant other is a serial killer or do they just think
 that they have a morbid sense of humor? It'd be
 even funnier if the author had no fucking clue, like
 how Aurthur Conan Doyle was apparently stupidly
 gullible, and on top of it they're a horror or crime
 novelist. Like the serial killer works at a butcher shop
 or something so it's completely normal for them to
 come home smelling like blood, no murders going on
 here, no sirey. Just my darling coming back home
 from a long day at work.
 Now fast forward a bit and the author has managed
 to get their first book published, with loving support
 from the serial killer who helped them fine tune all
 the murder scenes, and it's a big hit. Enough so that
 detective with the local police department has
 noticed some disturbing similarities to several active
 cases, including details that were never released to
 the press. Obviously he brings this up to his superior
 and convinces him that there's something to the
 theory, but it's all circumstantial right now. He stakes
 out the author's home and is super convinced that
 the author is the murderer, but they don't seem to do
 anything??? Like they literally are at the house all
 day, that's it. Most they do is leave for groceries.
 So you get this dynamic of the serial killer mining the
 author for creative murder schemes, the author
 being lovingly encouraged by the serial killer, and
 finally the detective who is just so sure that the
 author is the killer and that if he sticks it out long
 enough he'll FINALLY have proof.
 annieutimagines
 Plot twist, The serial killer and detective use to go
 out so it gets sub what personal.
 "You need to stop seeing them. I think they are a
 serial killer."
 Serial killer breaths in. "Look-"
I love this so much

I love this so much

Dating, Desperate, and Drinking: 20:14 O 11% Claire Today 18:23 Am I supposed to send my CV to you separate or do you just want a covering letter? Covering letter is enough Could I get a job description to base it off please? Today 19:35 Lonely, mildly depressed single female seeking remotely stable man friend to people watch in reality and via Netflix Responsibilities include: Chaperoning to live music events, cinemas and shitty Dundee bars, perhaps occasionally a nightclub. Corresponding via a range of media within adequate times. Ability to tolerate prolonged bouts of complaining about life or work as well a questionable music taste. Providing mental and physical support in a range of activities including the gym. Spooning and perhaps sexual duties. Temporary post. Potential to become permanent. I'm a business teacher, this is my shit right here Today 20:06 Dear Claire, I'm writing this letter in regards to the temporary/permanent position of Partner. Please find my desperate attempt at wooing below. I am a reasonably stable Male that has previous experience in dating/ being a partner, with varying levels of success. Can deal with copious amounts of complaining over different forms of communication, very rarely leaves on read. Prefer outdoor activities to indoor exercise but can do. Will deal with drinking sessions professionally until shots are ordered though will still find way home. Sexual performance may vary. Thank you for taking the time to review my application, I look forward to hearing from you and hopefully progressing to the next stage of a date. I can't believe you actually wrote me a cover letter it's one of the better ones I've had so I guess we could do an "interview". Type a message... GIF Her bio read “It’s a bio, no a CV.”
Dating, Desperate, and Drinking: 20:14 O
 11%
 Claire
 Today 18:23
 Am I supposed to send my CV to
 you separate or do you just want a
 covering letter?
 Covering letter is enough
 Could I get a job description to base
 it off please?
 Today 19:35
 Lonely, mildly depressed single
 female seeking remotely stable
 man friend to people watch in
 reality and via Netflix
 Responsibilities include:
 Chaperoning to live music events,
 cinemas and shitty Dundee bars,
 perhaps occasionally a nightclub.
 Corresponding via a range of
 media within adequate times.
 Ability to tolerate prolonged bouts
 of complaining about life or work
 as well a questionable music taste.
 Providing mental and physical
 support in a range of activities
 including the gym.
 Spooning and perhaps sexual
 duties.
 Temporary post. Potential to
 become permanent.
 I'm a business teacher, this is my
 shit right here
 Today 20:06
 Dear Claire,
 I'm writing this letter in regards to
 the temporary/permanent position
 of Partner. Please find my desperate
 attempt at wooing below.
 I am a reasonably stable Male that
 has previous experience in dating/
 being a partner, with varying levels
 of success. Can deal with copious
 amounts of complaining over
 different forms of communication,
 very rarely leaves on read. Prefer
 outdoor activities to indoor exercise
 but can do. Will deal with drinking
 sessions professionally until shots
 are ordered though will still find way
 home. Sexual performance may
 vary.
 Thank you for taking the time to
 review my application, I look forward
 to hearing from you and hopefully
 progressing to the next stage of a
 date.
 I can't believe you actually wrote
 me a cover letter
 it's one of
 the better ones I've had so I guess
 we could do an "interview".
 Type a message...
 GIF
Her bio read “It’s a bio, no a CV.”

Her bio read “It’s a bio, no a CV.”

Being Alone, Crying, and Dude: thejorie: xilast-zurvifferman: thejorie: jackbecq: thejorie: 19leahjade96: thejorie: madamekagamine: thejorie: gccgrimm: thejorie: gucciballs: thejorie: peble: thejorie: My three girlfriends.And yes, they smoke weed. do they smoke weed? Yes, actually. you mean she isnt just smoking a cigarette? but a weed cigarette? It’s called a bunt…. Not weed cigarette… And yes, it is a weed bunt. They all smoke weed bunts before we kiss. (They are my girlfriends,) They don’t look like they smoke weed. Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.I’m so angry you are so lucky my three weed smorking girlfriends are rubbing my shoulders to calm me down I’m so mad. Your “weed smoking girlfriend” has a Hello Kitty tattoo on her belly. The one in the middle. I printed out a photo of your avatar and taped it to my punching bag that I punch and I mutter your URL with every strong punch I punch you twerp…. Don’t ever Talk about Blaiz or the wicked Tat(tattoo) I drew on her ever again I Don’t wanna see you standing outside my home at 3 am holding your weird dripping brown bags ever again ok leave us alone this is the FINAL FUCKING WARNING  Well that escalated quickly…… What, was that? Hmm? Come again. *Blaiz grabs my shoulder* Come on Jory, they aren’t worth it, please. * I jerk my shoulder shaking her hand off* NO! NOOOOO!!! *starts to just pummel you with my big fucking fists. With each blow I let out a furious yell. The blows come quicker and harder and the yells get louder. I’m yelling so loud and now I’m crying. BREAKING POINT. The week was hard and I can’t take anymore. I’m opening sobbing at this point while you blood gurgle. All three of my girlfriends struggle to pull me off and they finally succeed and lead me away from the goo pile that is now your body* haha oh my god who even is this dude? someone needs some anger management classes. love how he keeps reminding us that “I HAVE THREE GIRLFRIENDS”, “THEY ALL KISS ME”, and “THEY SMOKE WEED HURRP DURR”. and let’s not forget the “Blaiz” and her “wicked tat”, or that he doesn’t “wanna see you standing outside [his] home at 3 am holding your weird dripping brown bags ever again”, and that this is “the FINAL FUCKING WARNING”. “the goo pile that is now your body” i’m dying over here, jesus please, Jory, come challenge me to a bout of internet witticsisms; i promise, it’ll be fun. *shoots you dead* Heh, idiot…*leaves with my three weed smorking girlfriends to go hold hands and kiss.* this dude playin omg  Come again? *The bar falls silent. No one dares to make a sound, as you have just said a very poor choice of words at a very dangerous time. I remain slumped over the bar, not looking back to you. One hand limply holding an almost empty bottle, the other hand cradling my head. I repeat the question, this time louder.* Come again?! *You can hear me slur the words, the sentence sounds like a real struggle for me to get out. I’m clearly intoxicated. A bead of sweat rolls down your face as you realize you might have just fucked up in a very major way. Everyone else in the bar is pretending to not notice what is going on. The bartender idly washes a mug with a cloth. His eyes are closed and he’s muttering something to himself. A handful of people hurriedly leave. One person looks back at you, a look of sorrow on their face. They almost say something, but shake their head and cast their eyes down to the floor, and leave. But not you. You stand, petrified. A quick look at me reveals I’m still  at the bar. You look to the exit, there’s still time. But there’s not, there’s not, there’s not. Your fate was sealed the moment you opened your mouth.* Mother fuck.. what did you say?! *I slowly rise from my stool and being to lumber over to you.  I look a mess. My hair is unkempt, I haven’t shaved in what looks like months, there are dark heavy bags under my eyes, my shirt is stained and has holes in it, and I’m missing a shoe. But the main thing you notice is the gun tucked into my jeans, and my massive muscle arms that look like they were made for punching. You know that song about the boots that were made for walking? Yeah, it’s like that only instead of boots it’s my muscles and instead of walking it’s punching. As I drunkenly sway over to you, you think of your family… Will they mourn you, or will they try and forget this blotch of stupidity, that their child insulted the Jory publicly, ever happened to their family? Your thoughts are cut short as I now stand face to face with you. I grab your face and pull you even closer.* Playin?! There was nothing playing… no playing you fuck. No playing… it was real.. the realest thing I’ve ever know.. felt… Love. I loved them… Blaiz…. Chas-Chas… Funk… I loved all three of em… but they…*My face is wet with tears and I’m blinking constantly in vain to hold them back.* They left me… left… *Almost instantly the sadness leaves my face and is replaced with pure anger.* Playin? Playin?! *My hand leaves your face and starts to head to what you think is the gun. You close your eyes and see God looking at you, shrugging. ‘Pft, you brought this upon yourself dude.’ He says as he waves his hands at you dismissively. But instead of the gun, my hands grab yours. Your eyes jolt open and the anger is gone from my face. There is only sadness.* Left me… * I fall to the floor and sob.*Wow, grow up. *You say before you leave the bar but are hit almost immediately from a car and are killed upon impact.*
Being Alone, Crying, and Dude: thejorie:

xilast-zurvifferman:

thejorie:

jackbecq:

thejorie:

19leahjade96:

thejorie:

madamekagamine:

thejorie:

gccgrimm:

thejorie:

gucciballs:

thejorie:

peble:

thejorie:

My three girlfriends.And yes, they smoke weed.

do they smoke weed?

Yes, actually.

you mean she isnt just smoking a cigarette? but a weed cigarette? 

It’s called a bunt…. Not weed cigarette… And yes, it is a weed bunt. They all smoke weed bunts before we kiss. (They are my girlfriends,)

They don’t look like they smoke weed.

Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.I’m so angry you are so lucky my three weed smorking girlfriends are rubbing my shoulders to calm me down I’m so mad.

Your “weed smoking girlfriend” has a Hello Kitty tattoo on her belly. The one in the middle.

I printed out a photo of your avatar and taped it to my punching bag that I punch and I mutter your URL with every strong punch I punch you twerp…. Don’t ever Talk about Blaiz or the wicked Tat(tattoo) I drew on her ever again I Don’t wanna see you standing outside my home at 3 am holding your weird dripping brown bags ever again ok leave us alone this is the FINAL FUCKING WARNING 

Well that escalated quickly……

What, was that? Hmm? Come again. *Blaiz grabs my shoulder* Come on Jory, they aren’t worth it, please. * I jerk my shoulder shaking her hand off* NO! NOOOOO!!! *starts to just pummel you with my big fucking fists. With each blow I let out a furious yell. The blows come quicker and harder and the yells get louder. I’m yelling so loud and now I’m crying. BREAKING POINT. The week was hard and I can’t take anymore. I’m opening sobbing at this point while you blood gurgle. All three of my girlfriends struggle to pull me off and they finally succeed and lead me away from the goo pile that is now your body*

haha oh my god

who even is this dude? someone needs some anger management classes.

love how he keeps reminding us that “I HAVE THREE GIRLFRIENDS”, “THEY ALL KISS ME”, and “THEY SMOKE WEED HURRP DURR”.

and let’s not forget the “Blaiz” and her “wicked tat”, or that he doesn’t “wanna see you standing outside [his] home at 3 am holding your weird dripping brown bags ever again”, and that this is “the FINAL FUCKING WARNING”.

“the goo pile that is now your body”

i’m dying over here, jesus

please, Jory, come challenge me to a bout of internet witticsisms; i promise, it’ll be fun.

*shoots you dead* Heh, idiot…*leaves with my three weed smorking girlfriends to go hold hands and kiss.*

this dude playin omg 

Come again? *The bar falls silent. No one dares to make a sound, as you have just said a very poor choice of words at a very dangerous time. I remain slumped over the bar, not looking back to you. One hand limply holding an almost empty bottle, the other hand cradling my head. I repeat the question, this time louder.* Come again?! *You can hear me slur the words, the sentence sounds like a real struggle for me to get out. I’m clearly intoxicated. A bead of sweat rolls down your face as you realize you might have just fucked up in a very major way. Everyone else in the bar is pretending to not notice what is going on. The bartender idly washes a mug with a cloth. His eyes are closed and he’s muttering something to himself. A handful of people hurriedly leave. One person looks back at you, a look of sorrow on their face. They almost say something, but shake their head and cast their eyes down to the floor, and leave. But not you. You stand, petrified. A quick look at me reveals I’m still  at the bar. You look to the exit, there’s still time. But there’s not, there’s not, there’s not. Your fate was sealed the moment you opened your mouth.* Mother fuck.. what did you say?! *I slowly rise from my stool and being to lumber over to you.  I look a mess. My hair is unkempt, I haven’t shaved in what looks like months, there are dark heavy bags under my eyes, my shirt is stained and has holes in it, and I’m missing a shoe. But the main thing you notice is the gun tucked into my jeans, and my massive muscle arms that look like they were made for punching. You know that song about the boots that were made for walking? Yeah, it’s like that only instead of boots it’s my muscles and instead of walking it’s punching. As I drunkenly sway over to you, you think of your family… Will they mourn you, or will they try and forget this blotch of stupidity, that their child insulted the Jory publicly, ever happened to their family? Your thoughts are cut short as I now stand face to face with you. I grab your face and pull you even closer.* Playin?! There was nothing playing… no playing you fuck. No playing… it was real.. the realest thing I’ve ever know.. felt… Love. I loved them… Blaiz…. Chas-Chas… Funk… I loved all three of em… but they…*My face is wet with tears and I’m blinking constantly in vain to hold them back.* They left me… left… *Almost instantly the sadness leaves my face and is replaced with pure anger.* Playin? Playin?! *My hand leaves your face and starts to head to what you think is the gun. You close your eyes and see God looking at you, shrugging. ‘Pft, you brought this upon yourself dude.’ He says as he waves his hands at you dismissively. But instead of the gun, my hands grab yours. Your eyes jolt open and the anger is gone from my face. There is only sadness.* Left me… * I fall to the floor and sob.*Wow, grow up. *You say before you leave the bar but are hit almost immediately from a car and are killed upon impact.*

thejorie: xilast-zurvifferman: thejorie: jackbecq: thejorie: 19leahjade96: thejorie: madamekagamine: thejorie: gccgrimm: thejorie:...